Same As It Never Was Origins: Phase IV
by YAY Productions
Summary: Phase IV: The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo: After abandoning his brothers, Don returns to New York, only to find it in ruins. Families destroyed, insanity reigning, and now he wants more than blood- he lusts after death. With a chance for a flower to bloom, he may crush it before it sees hope of the light of day. 2012 setting, SAINW themed. Sequel to "Insanity". In progress, R&R


**A/N: Here is what y'all have been asking! The first chapter to The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo!**

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><p>Donatello inhaled in a deep breath of oxygen. The view before him was incredible, in a grotesque sort of way. Old and new ashes, crumbling concrete, decimated buildings. Everything he had fought against when he was younger, and everything he had created in his own, unique way.<p>

Oh, for ages he had fought the battle, but he always knew it was his fault. He had tried to escape his conscience, and hide away. But now that he had come to terms with...everything, he could accept this new world.

He had made a promise. Indirectly, but definitely a promise. It had been to a beautiful girl with dark auburn hair that he had once obsessed over. Her name was April, and that name would forever roll over his tongue with regret and remorse. He betrayed her, just as he betrayed those he had called family.

How long had he attempted to convince himself that what had occurred was not his own doing? He didn't choose for the Kraang to take him- torment him...torture him and abuse him...and experiment on him. He believed that they had created a creature, a monster within him to destroy his brothers. In truth, he was sure that they merely brought forth the worst in him. Jealousy, anger, envy, and hate. Every persons worst aspects had flooded him. He used to talk to himself, argue with himself, but that ceased years ago when he left this wretched place.

And now he was back. The rooftops he had raced with his brothers, the streets he had ravaged as a hideous freak, the town that he had given to the Shredder.

"A house divided against itself cannot stand," He quoted. Abraham Lincoln was correct. As he and his brothers fought, the keys of the city, and potentially the world were given to the man that craved only one thing: dominance.

In the end, Donatello had fled. He had said goodbye and good riddance to Leo, Raph, Mikey, and April. He didn't think he would ever come back. Instead, he left them to fight and war against their enemy while he hid. He was not afraid to become involved, it just wasn't his fight.

There was just one problem. New York wasn't enough for Shredder. The further south Donatello had fled, the more he realized it was to no avail. Freedom would always be just a reach away. And so now...now he had returned. There was no where else to go. He was always drawn here, to familiarity of what he had called home before.

Oh, he had seen much. There would always be more to be seen, and what a better place to restart then here?

He took another breath in. April was probably dead...and his brothers too. They were probably resting with their father in the afterlife, leaving him to walk a mortal's life for all eternity. He couldn't die, he couldn't be defeated. He always bounced back. He always came back. He didn't need sleep, nor food or water. He could, however, become stronger, swifter, and more resilient. This, he discovered, he could use to his advantage. In a world where he couldn't die, why not become the best?

Maybe that's why he came back. He wanted to test himself. How many trees could he turn into wooden puppets? How many lives could he influence without anyone knowing? The challenge was his, and nobody else's. In life, everything dies. But in death...in everyone's death, he could live.

First things came first, obviously. He had to retrace his steps, recreate his own patterns. Who had he already influenced? What could he take now and make his own? Put his own brand on?

Gazing over the smog covered ex-metropolis, a fond memory crossed his mind. Two little girls, perfect in their purity and innocence, arguing as all sisters do. Their parents, afraid but not fearful, cared for him dutifully. A modern family, they were...a wonderful start.

The sights may have changed, homes ripped apart mercilessly, but he knew his way. He stayed with them for over a year, and he traveled this town far longer than that. The apartment looked abandoned, but he did not expect anything different. Any clues, anything that could lead him, he would take.

Creeping up the stairs stealthily, he listened for any sound. The old building creaked and groaned, wanting to be released from its bonds, but nothing would allow it. Nothing for now.

Donatello had never come up this way. He always entered and exited the home from the outside, never the inside like a normal person. The view probably would have been ordinary to any other, but to him it would have seemed...grandeur. To not be afraid of anyone coming out of their doors and screaming at the first sight of him. To be a human was his grandest dream. He had wished for wavy, brown hair, five fingers on each hand, and five toes on each foot. Instead, he was a hybrid. Not man, not animal. Something in between. Impossible to be accepted in society, and impossible to return to his original terrapin self. A pet to be sold to the eager, selfish, greedy child who would soon flush him down the toilet. Instead, he wound up in the hands of a man. That man, in less than two decades would lose two families and his own life. The first to a man he called brother, and the second to a species that gave him four sons to replace what he lost.

Taking a step back, Donatello knew something was wrong. While the apartment itself was in ruin, most of the doors were still intact. Some open, some tightly closed, but all still together. This one...this was hanging by its hinges, the door handle ripped right off.

Slowly pushing the door open, it fell to the floor. The home, the sanctuary had been ransacked and stripped. Someone had been here before. The dust lingering told him it had been quite a while, but still, something was definitely wrong.

Donatello grimaced, something he now rarely did, at the sight in the living room. Two chairs, facing each other from the opposite sides of the room, were placed very strategically. The chairs, however, were not important. The skeleton remains tied to the chairs and the bones scattered around them were what caught his attention. Gags on the skulls, but the eyes left opened. Knives stuck in their chest...blood stains on the floor. These people had been forced to watch one another die, unable to do anything.

The glint of a wedding band on the smaller form put knots in Don's stomach. The couple that took him in, that treated him so well, had been put through this. Harold and Merry Paulsen- the best people in the world in his book. But that only meant...

Donatello turned to the bedrooms, peaking first into the master, and then the room shared by the girls. And there they were...both Heather and Lynn...huddled close together. They were inseparable, even in death. They were the pinnacle of purity, untouched and unblemished by life. And yet...here they were. Their last moments in each other's arms.

At first glance, one would not assume much except that they had died. But the tarnished carpet told him something else. Their throats had been cut, and they were left to bleed out. This whole act was done with such precision, such intent. This was not for them, but rather someone who knew what they knew. They knew him, and the only other person who had the power to do this was...Oroku Saki. Donatello had threatened, told him what would he would do if he touched them. He did not listen. Now he would pay, and pay most dearly.

A sound, unlike what the building itself was making, reached his ears. Somebody's foot on glass as they entered through living room. They didn't stop, they didn't flinch at the bodies, or the movement would have stopped.

Pulling his scythe out, Don snuck out from the hall. Shredder was probably aware that he was here, and came to collect his due. Wouldn't he be surprised when he brought back his assassin's head and rolled it to him himself?

Drawing his blade, Don swung it silently without warning, stopping mere millimeters from the person's neck. Raising her hands quickly, the feminine figure widened her arms. Short, hastily cropped off blonde hair spiked up slightly as crystal blue eyes stared up at him. Just as quickly though, her hands dropped and she replied nonchalantly. "Oh, I thought you were one of the Foot."

"What makes you think I'm not more dangerous?" Don was caught off guard by her attitude, and his eyes flashed to a mark on her arm. It was a tattoo. And not just any tattoo, but very specific one that he would recognize anywhere, anytime. The winding, binding purple shape of a dragon caressed the girl arm both gingerly and fiercely.

"Because you're a turtle..." She looked at him, and flashed him a small smile. "And you've saved my life. Twice, actually."

Don looked at her, perplexed. "Have I now?" A smirk spread across his lips. He may not know her, but she knew him. And he had influenced her. She was perfect game for what he needed, and what he needed was revenge.

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><p><strong>AN: So there you guys go! I hope you enjoy!**


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